


Like A Grizzly Tears Bark Off A Tree

by JinxedAmbitions



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Minor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Online Dating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxedAmbitions/pseuds/JinxedAmbitions
Summary: Maybe Eskel has been in a bit of a slump lately.  It's no big deal...until everyone makes it one.  When Jaskier insists that he knows the answer to Eskel’s current funk, there's really no stopping him. However, Eskel isn’t so sure that allowing Geralt’s partner to sign him up for dating sites is the answer to his problems, but he plays along anyway.  Maybe it's a mistake to let Jaskier help him, but hopefully it won't be one he regrets.Letho isn't looking for anything serious.  He's not even sure he's looking for anything at all, just making up for lost time.  However, when scrolls across Eskel on the app, he can't help himself. Maybe it's a mistake to message him, but hopefully it won't be one he regrets.
Relationships: Eskel/Letho z Gulety | Letho of Gulet
Comments: 30
Kudos: 51





	1. How Long Has It Been?

**Author's Note:**

> A special thanks to LovelyRita1967 for getting me into this pairing. They have been fun to write.

“So when was the last time?”

Eskel looked up from the worn paperback he’d been reading. Jaskier was definitely talking to him if the direct eye contact was anything to go by. It was a little disconcerting.

“Last time what?” he asked, placing his index finger between the pages to hold his spot. Jaskier’s disruptions were rarely brief.

“Leave him alone,” Geralt grumbled from the kitchen where he was preparing dinner. 

Usually, Eskel would offer to help, but Jaskier had insisted that Geralt would handle it. Now, he realized it was probably just so Jaskier could interrogate him about something without Geralt there to hold him back. 

“When was the last time your sausage found a proper bun?” Jaskier asked, completely ignoring Geralt’s command.

Eskel blinked at him, trying to get past the truly awful euphemism.

“Leave him alone,” Geralt repeated, but he already sounded defeated. 

“I…my what?” Eskel asked because, really, Jaskier was nearly thirty years old. He truly could not be using the world’s worst euphemism to refer to Eskel getting laid. He must be misunderstanding him.

“Eskel, don’t play coy. We’re all family here.”

Eskel continued to give him an empty look.

“ _ Fine _ ,” Jaskier proclaimed dramatically. “As your very dear, dear friend, who might as well be family, I am concerned.”

“About my sausage? Should Geralt be worried?” Eskel asked, giving up on his book completely and placing it on the coffee table.

“Eskel, I hate to be the one to say it, but you are in a slump. I know you enjoy sex. I have heard just how much you enjoy sex,” Jaskier said, waving his hands in exaggerated fashion. 

Geralt’s sigh was audible from the other room. Eskel actually laughed at that. No one was more aware of Jaskier’s idiosyncrasies than Geralt, but while the man made a show of being the put upon lover, he never actually stopped Jaskier from being himself.

“I’m worried.” Jaskier sounded truly earnest which actually stung a little. Did he seem that pathetic? Had it really been  _ that  _ long? 

It wasn’t that Eskel minded talking about his sex life. He and Jaskier had talked extensively about partners and things they enjoyed—usually when drunk but that was beside the point. It was just that he  _ was  _ in a slump, and it was a bit embarrassing. He and Triss hadn’t even dated  _ that  _ long, but he’d been a bit down ever since. Throwing himself into work had just seemed like a better use of his time than finding someone else.

“No need to be worried,” Eskel said, knowing that wouldn’t be enough to halt Jaskier in his tracks but also feeling the need to save face, even if just a little.

“That’s what I told him.” Geralt sounded like this had been a long conversation that he’d unwittingly and unwillingly had foisted upon him once already. 

“But  _ how long  _ has it been, Eskel? Six weeks?  _ Seven _ ?” Jaskier asked. Jaskier’s eyes widened as though seven weeks without carnal satisfaction was a fate worse than death.

Eskel almost choked. Jaskier was concerned about a matter of weeks? Suddenly, Eskel wasn’t sure he should admit to the reality.

“ _ Jaskier _ ,” Geralt growled.

“Geralt, we are his family. We’re looking out for him.”

“Close to a year,” Eskel sighed, hoping it was better just to get it out there. The lengthy silence afterwards said otherwise.

“ _ Really _ ?” Geralt was the first to speak, and even he sounded surprised. Though it was difficult to tell because his inflection hardly changed from his usual grumble.

“Plenty of people don’t have sex constantly the way that you two do,” Eskel defended himself.

He was met by another prolonged silence.

“We need to do something about this,” Jaskier finally proclaimed. 

“Jaskier.”

“No, it’s fine...I guess I’ve been in a slump since Triss left.”

Geralt stepped into the room and gave him a look that said that he better know what he was getting himself into because this was the last possible point Geralt might be able to call his intrepid fiancé off.

“I’m serious. It’s fine.”

* * *

Eskel wasn’t sure  _ fine  _ was the word he would use as he sat on Lambert’s couch not a week later. At least, he had plenty of beer. 

He did not, however, have his phone. 

Jaskier was the one holding his phone as he made a profile on some dating site or other. Eskel wasn’t entirely sure of the details, but Jaskier had assured him that this would be the answer to all of his problems. 

Eskel was a bit skeptical because he doubted a dating site was going to fix the leaky pipe under his sink that had been a problem for weeks now. However, he was willing to admit that he might not care as much about the leaky pipe if he was getting laid regularly. 

“How tall are you?” Jaskier asked from the cozy armchair. He was looking Eskel up and down like his height might be written on him somewhere.

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t like he’d measured himself since he was a kid. He’d even guessed on his license. Did people actually know their exact heights? Was  _ tall  _ not enough info?

“How do you not know?” Lambert asked, sounding truly perplexed. He had a beer in one hand and his boyfriend Aiden pressed into his other side. 

“Doesn’t really seem that important.” Eskel shrugged. They had been at this for over an hour already. Lambert and Jaskier had debated which site to sign up for at length. Eskel had tuned them out by talking to Aiden about his busy season. Somehow even accounting seemed more enthralling than his own sex life...which probably should have been concerning considering how rich his sex life had been previously.

“Well, it is possibly the most important bit of data on a dating site,” Jaskier informed him. “You’re taller than Geralt, so I’m going to go with 6’4”.” 

Eskel opened his mouth to ask how his height could possibly matter that much, but Geralt shook his head. He was probably saving them both from Jaskier’s likely long-winded response. Geralt had been making a valiant effort to curb both Jaskier and Lambert’s enthusiasm, but it could not be contained.

“Boxers or briefs?” Jaskier asked.

“Is that really a question?” Eskel wrinkled his nose, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

“No, I just want to know.” Jaskier stuck his tongue in his cheek, and Eskel chuckled in relief. 

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

“Mm. Not if I do it first,” Geralt grumbled from the other side of the couch.

“Shush. We are getting Eskel laid. If you refuse to be a help, why don’t you go and get us some more drinks?” Jaskier said, slapping Geralt’s knee lightly.

Geralt rose without a word.

“Okay, so what are you looking for?”

“Another gin would be great. Thanks, Wolf,” Eskel said, holding out his glass.

Geralt took it with a grunt and a look of pity.

“That is not what I meant, and you know it,” Jaskier grumbled.

“In what then?” Eskel scratched at his scars. 

“Everything? What’s your type?” Jaskier asked.

“I don’t know.”

“ _ I _ do,” Lambert cut in. “The bigger the better.”

“I can appreciate that, but even this site doesn’t allow dick pics.”

“Not like that.” Lambert was laughing as he said it. “He likes big guys. Bears, you might say. Hair and all.”

“Really?” Jaskier looked intrigued even as he pecked away at Eskel’s phone with his index finger.

“Is there something wrong with that?” Eskel asked.

“No, I just imagined you would go for leaner...smaller guys.”

“Why would you assume that?” Eskel asked, trying to think if he’d brought around anyone that fit that bill.

Jaskier blushed. “You have that aura of caring about you. You give everyone these massive hugs like you’re going to tuck us into your pocket and keep us safe. Just figured you...ya know...like someone you could fit in your pocket and keep safe.” There were hand gestures and a lot of expressions to go along with Jaskier’s explanation, but mostly there was a sense that he’d clearly stepped in it.

“And?” Eskel said, narrowing his eyes.

“And it would be really hot, okay?” Geralt happened to be coming back into the room as Jaskier said this, and just shook his head. “What? You weren’t here to stop me!” Jaskier cried, pointing at Geralt accusatorially. 

Lambert snorted. “Your weird fantasies aside, Eskel likes to be the little spoon.”

Jaskier looked contemplative as he gave the phone his attention. “Tell me more,” he urged as he began to type away on it. 

“Please don’t,” Geralt sighed, handing Eskel a glass with far too much gin to be advisable. Eskel accepted it with a grateful smile.

"Geralt, do you remember the biker Eskel showed up with that one night, and Vesemir nearly chased him out with a broom?" Lambert asked, getting a mischievous glint in his eye.

"That wasn't a broom. It was his shotgun, and I believe there is a saying about glasshouses and stones that you should really consider before you say anything else," Eskel retorted, taking a large gulp of his gin.

"No, Lambert, tell us more!" Jaskier's enthusiasm was clearly more enticing than Eskel's threats because Lambert launched into the story anyway. 

These were the people responsible for creating his dating profile. This was definitely a mistake.

* * *

Eskel sat on his bed in nothing but his boxer-briefs, staring down at his phone. Jaskier hadn’t signed him up for a dating app but a hookup app. He hadn’t realized there was a difference until he opened it himself. All of the pictures were of flawless abs that made him look down at his own body and question how people managed that. Eskel knew he was in shape, but he was more function than form at this point. He had strength, but his body wasn’t as pretty as it had been in his twenties, and it had never been as pretty as these men. 

The pictures that weren’t abs were of too-young faces. Eskel didn’t want to hookup with a man who was closer in age to puberty than he was to Eskel’s age. Staying up all night, going for brief round after brief round sounded like torture these days. He wanted a good lay. A slow build up and something that left him weak for the rest of the night.

“This is not solving all of my troubles,” Eskel mumbled as he scrolled through the grid of hot and mostly hairless bodies. The only impressive thing about the site was the number of available men in his area.

Thoughts of the leaky pipe under his sink came to mind, and he shook his head. These men wouldn’t be enough to distract him from that for long. 

Eskel was just about to put his phone down and go check that the bucket under the sink wasn’t too full when a picture caught his eye. It was a picture of a chest and arms, but they weren’t like the others in the feed. First of all, the chest was covered by a leather vest, and the arms were massive even by Eskel’s standards. There was no denying the power in that body. 

“Letho,” Eskel said aloud as he noticed the name over the picture. 

Clicking on the picture, Eskel looked at the man’s profile. Sure enough, his height was right near the top, and it made Eskel chuckle. Who thought of these things, and who went along with them? 

“What bullshit,” he muttered even as he studied the man’s information. 

Letho was a couple years younger than Eskel at thirty-six, but certainly old enough to have some life experience. While his height was six foot six, his body type was just “big.” From the picture alone, there was no denying that. Eskel knew people could work magic on photos, but he didn’t think one could really fake Letho’s body starting with the scars that were visible on his bare arms. Eskel liked that. Clearly, he took care of himself, but he didn’t seem like it was all about vanity. 

Eskel stopped when he came to Letho’s weight. Three hundred pounds, and there couldn’t be much fat on him from the looks of it. Certainly enough to make him look solid, but nothing extra.

“Fuck.” 

Lambert was definitely right about his type. 

“I need to sleep,” Eskel muttered, rubbing his eyes, but he just kept looking at Letho’s picture. He could imagine holding him or being held. He could imagine the scuffle for the upper hand and not worrying that he was a little rough around the edges.

Before he could put his phone down though, he glanced through the rest of the profile. The man was a top, and Eskel couldn’t help imagining that he was massive all over. He was single and looking for hookups. Eskel could appreciate that. He wasn’t exactly looking for another relationship after the last. Even when they ended gently, it still hurt.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Eskel said, turning off the screen and placing his phone on the nightstand. No law said that he had to message anyone the first night he had the app. In fact, the amount of alcohol in his blood stream was probably an excellent reason not to message anyone. If Letho was just in town for the night then it wasn’t meant to be. 

Turning off the light, Eskel laid on his back staring up at the ceiling. His mind played over the endless feed of washboard abs and perfect teeth. Maybe this was why he hadn’t jumped back into things after Triss. He wasn’t really ready for the settling part of settle down, but everything out there felt like settling these days.

A firm chest and massive arms wedged themselves into Eskel’s mind’s eye. Gods, it was shallow, but he felt his heart race just at the thought of what those arms were capable of. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Eskel groaned as he felt himself grow hard at the mere thought of what Letho could do to him. 

He pictured big hands pinning him to the wall as that firm chest pressed against his back. Those strong hands would have no trouble tearing his pants down his legs or wrapping around his aching cock.

Eskel bit his lip as his own hand slipped into his underwear and squeezed his hard cock. He imagined Letho holding him in place as he teased him with his hand. He mimicked his imagination with his own hand, teasing the head then touching his shaft lightly. Even without firm pressure, Eskel’s body was aflame. He gut tightened as he gave himself a few teasing strokes.

It was probably embarrassing how turned on he was at just the thought of someone taking charge and having the strength to make Eskel feel secure. To not have to worry that he’d inadvertently hurt them if he let himself go.

Realizing what he was doing, Eskel rolled onto his side and pulled his hand out of his underwear. He wasn’t going to jerk off to a firm chest and some nice arms. That was...sad. 

Instead, he laid there and willed himself to sleep...with limited success. His thoughts were filled with rough hands and the pleasure they could bring.

* * *

Eskel woke to the sound of his front door opening, and he found himself questioning—not for the first time—why he’d given his brothers the key. Rolling over, he grabbed his phone to check the time but found an unfamiliar notification on the screen. He squinted at the screen, trying to read the tiny print. 

“Damn it,” Eskel grumbled, reaching for his reading glasses on the nightstand. Once they were settled on his nose, he lit his phone again and almost immediately dropped it.

Cursing, Eskel practically dove off the bed to retrieve it. Once Eskel had his phone in hand again, he tapped the app notification and realized that it wasn’t just one notification but several.

“What the hell is a tap?” Eskel scratched his chest as he swung his legs out of bed. “Geralt, what the hell is a tap?” Eskel called as he pulled on a sweatshirt. He didn’t bother with pants.

“Like a keg tap?” Geralt retorted. Eskel really should’ve seen that one coming.

“Like a dating app tap…”

“How the hell should I know?” Geralt retorted from somewhere in the house as Eskel staggered into his bathroom. “I’ll ask Jaskier.” 

By the time Eskel came into the kitchen, Geralt was halfway through the breakfast sandwich he’d brought with him. He wordlessly pointed to the greasy paper bag, and Eskel happily took his own.

“Jaskier said a tap is to let you know that person thinks you’re hot but aren’t ready to talk or just can’t at the moment,” Geralt said around a mouthful of bagel and egg.

“That seems…” Eskel scratched at the scar on his cheek.

“You don’t have to use the app, Eskel. Jaskier can go a bit overboard, but you aren’t going to hurt his feelings if you aren’t comfortable using a hookup app.”

“I agreed to it,” Eskel said, scrolling around to see who had tapped him again. “Jaskier wasn’t wrong. I’m in a funk. This’ll be good.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s a bunch of shallow men sick of their own hand looking for other shallow men.”

“Don’t be too optimistic or anything,” Eskel said, snorting at Geralt’s fairly accurate description of what he’d seen so far. 

As he was joking around with Geralt, another notification came through. Eskel glanced down and saw the chest he’d dreamed about the night before. Eskel tapped the notification and chuckled. 

_ —I think you’re on the wrong site. You don’t seem 20 and hairless to me— _

“Why are you giggling like a schoolgirl while looking at your phone?” Geralt asked, frowning over the rim of his coffee cup. 

“I’m not giggling.”

Geralt’s snort was not appreciated.

“Fine, someone sent me a message.”

“If he asked you to be his daddy, I really don’t want to know,” Geralt grumbled, but Eskel could hear the amusement in his tone. 

“One of these days I’m going to change my locks without telling you,” Eskel retorted even as he handed over his phone.

Geralt didn’t comment as he took the offered phone and read the screen. He snorted before handing it back. “He’s right.”

Eskel rolled his eyes. “Did you look at his profile picture?”

“Why would I?”

Eskel bit his tongue as he tapped on Letho’s profile and handed the phone back to Geralt.

“That can’t be real.”

Eskel shrugged before tapping on the message again. “Only one way to find out.”

“Lambert is going to be insufferable for nailing your type,” was all Geralt said as he polished off his sandwich.

Eskel smiled as he typed out a response.

—Are muscle bears territorial? Should I be worried?—

Eskel put his phone down and caught Geralt giving him an amused look. “What?”

“Haven’t seen you smile like that in a while. Maybe Jaskier is on to something.”

“Looks like Lambert will have company.”

“We should probably keep this to ourselves,” Geralt said, rolling up his trash and tossing it into the bin as Eskel got started on his own breakfast.

“Probably for the best. Don’t know how much humiliation I want to weather when this goes up in flames,” Eskel agreed. He leaned back in his chair as he continued eating, glancing at his phone like Letho might reply right away.

“Eskel, Triss made her choice. It had nothing to do with you being a good or bad partner. She wanted something different. No reason to feel like you don’t measure up when no one would have. This’ll be fine. Get your dick sucked or something and move on.” Geralt’s rumbling tone didn’t scream pep talk, but it still made Eskel feel better. Sometimes he forgot that Geralt had had his share of ill-advised relationships before he settled down with Jaskier. 

Objectively, he knew everything Geralt was saying already, but it didn’t hurt to hear it from Geralt who rarely sugar coated things.

“Finish eating or we’re both going to be late for work,” Geralt said, punching Eskel in the shoulder as he took his seat again.

“Or I could enjoy my breakfast, and we could skip a mile on our jog.”

“Sure, and then you can deal with Lambert being insufferable about kicking your ass the next time you spar on top of him being insufferable about knowing your type.”

Eskel grumbled as he finished off his own breakfast in record time. He was forty not dead. There was no way he was letting Lambert get a leg up on him yet...or ever.


	2. Bear Season

Eskel’s watch notified him that he’d received a message as he was trying to overtake Geralt on their fourth mile through the park. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes as he tried to read what the watch was telling him, but he couldn’t read it at all. He should probably ask Ciri about how to make everything bigger, but he was holding out on swallowing his pride for that one.

“Gettin’ old and slow,” Geralt called over his shoulder as they came to the small bridge halfway through their lap of the park.

“Got a message,” Eskel grumbled, pushing himself to catch up. He ignored the fact that they were the same age. This was Geralt’s revenge for decades of gray hair teasing.

“Don’t know why you wear that thing to run if you can’t read it,” Geralt said, slowing just enough to keep pace with Eskel. 

Eskel would have been insulted if he wasn’t squinting at his wrist again, trying to see if Istred was messaging him about work. His farsightedness wasn’t really new at this point, though he was certainly trying to pretend it hadn’t gotten any worse with time.

“Give it here,” Geralt grumbled, holding out his arm and taking Eskel by the wrist. He didn’t ask Eskel his passcode as he tapped the screen to unlock it, and then his steps stuttered and they both nearly tumbled into the little brook.

“What the hell was that?”

“You get your damn Grindr alerts to your phone?” Geralt asked.

“Huh?”

“Kreve,” Geralt muttered under his breath. “Someone sent you a picture of their genitals.”

Eskel jerked his arm away, feeling horrified. “Fuck, how do I stop that from happening?” he asked, tapping at the screen helplessly.

“How do you get men to stop sending you pictures of their junk or how do you stop it from going to your watch?” Geralt asked, picking up his pace again while Eskel stumbled.

“Both?”

Geralt chuckled. “Delete the app.”

Eskel huffed and picked up his pace again. He’d figure that out later. However, his wrist alerted him to another message, and Geralt grabbed him before he could throw the watching into the brook to spare himself any further embarrassment.

“This is from the guy with the chest. Says: not territorial.”

Eskel stopped and pulled his phone out of his shorts. Geralt grumbled as he stopped as well. Eskel ignored the way he bounced impatiently while Eskel fumbled with his phone to reply.

“You know he will probably forgive you if you don’t respond immediately.”

Eskel sighed. Geralt certainly had a point, but he didn’t like leaving things hanging. It’s why he had always excelled in school while Geralt and Lambert hadn’t, though they were no less intelligent.

“Just let me respond to this, and we’ll go.”

“Mm.”

Eskel squinted at the too dim screen, typing out a quick reply. 

—Then I suppose the only question to ask is are muscle bears in season?—

Eskel put his phone back into his shorts and gave Geralt an apologetic smile as they began moving again.

“I would tease you, but it would be too easy.”

Eskel grinned, grabbing Geralt as they continued to run and putting him in a headlock. “Like you weren’t a complete idiot when you met Jaskier. I seem to remember you repeatedly denying any affiliation with him while the two of you were exchanging nudes.”

“It isn’t an exchange when he sent twelve different pictures because he wasn’t sure which lighting best defined his assets, and I sent none.”

“But you saved them all because you weren’t interested at all,” Eskel crowed, letting Geralt go and jumping back to avoid the retaliatory grab.

Geralt punched him in the arm as they picked up their jog again. They hadn’t gone more than another quarter of a mile before Eskel’s wrist was giving him another alert. 

“You’re leaving the phone and the watch home next time we run,” Geralt grumbled, pulling Eskel’s wrist to him again and reading the message as they continued to run. “Says,  _ only if you aren’t afraid to get mauled... _ what the hell did you say to him? _ ” _

Eskel stopped in his tracks, not even caring that Geralt grumbled at his side as he too stopped. Letho’s reply sent an awkward jolt to his groin.

Tugging his phone out of his shorts, Eskel opened the app and squinted at the screen. Sure enough, Letho had said that, and it hit Eskel in the gut all over again. He bit his lip trying to think of a suitable reply.

“You’re going to get stiff.”

“Fuck off.”

“I meant your legs, you idiot. You need to keep moving. Flirt later,” Geralt grumbled, but he wasn’t wrong.

“ _ Fuck _ .” Eskel shoved his phone back in his shorts and began to jog again. His mind kept working on a possible reply. It had been a while since he’d flirted. Okay, it had been ages since he’d flirted properly. He and Triss had really just eye-fucked at Yennefer’s until they tumbled into bed together...for a year and a half. 

“Might as well be smoke pouring from your ears.”

“Shut up.”

“Want me to text Jaskier?” Geralt sounded resigned as he reached into his own pocket.

“I don’t need your boyfriend to help me sext.”

“Mm.” 

“I also don’t need your doubt.”

“Mhm.”

Eskel let out a huff of frustration as he sped up, leaving Geralt behind. That distracted Geralt, and then it was a full race back to Eskel’s house. Geralt reached his driveway a few steps ahead of Eskel, but it was hardly a shabby performance on Eskel’s part.

Geralt continued to bounce as Eskel bent over, catching his breath. It didn’t used to be like this. He used to kick Geralt’s ass at least as often as Geralt did his. Maybe he needed to spend a little less time in the archives, or maybe Geralt just needed to tone down his cardio routine...both of his cardio routines.

“I’ll leave you to your sexting, Old Man,” Geralt said, slapping Eskel on the back.

“Yeah, fuck off. See if I offer to babysit on date night next time you call.” Eskel retorted as he lowered himself to the grass and stretched on his front lawn. 

“You never offer, I just drop Ciri off and speed away.”

Eskel rolled his eyes, but he smiled as Geralt started jogging down the road back toward his house which was halfway across town. It was no wonder that he always kicked Eskel’s ass when he jogged an additional five or more miles every time they ran.

Laying back in the cold grass, Eskel pulled his phone out again and bit his lip. He typed out a response before he could second guess himself. It was probably terrible, but Letho was the one who brought it up.

—Not afraid.—

Eskel pressed send and dropped his phone onto his chest, hoping the brief message wasn’t riddled with typos. He pulled his left leg up to stretch out his hamstring since he wasn’t sure he could get back up now that he was down. 

A new message alert chirped as Eskel was stretching his other leg, and he let it swing back to the grass as he gripped his phone. He nearly dropped it on his face when he was bombarded by another man’s genitals. This one was more waxed taint than anything else, and Eskel didn’t bother to read the message attached. 

“Never going to get used to that,” he grunted, frowning at his phone to see who the sender was. The man’s profile was...uninspiring. Twenty-three and according to his profile, looking for a daddy to discipline him. “Fuck, I could practically be his father,” Eskel groaned. His own mother hadn’t been much older than seventeen when she’d had him. Maybe he was too old for this.

Eskel pushed himself to his feet, knowing he was going to be late for work if he didn’t get moving. He walked through the kitchen and dropped his phone on the table on the way to the bathroom, but it buzzed again before he was even out of the room. He froze, debating whether to check it. He wasn’t really interested in seeing another crotch, but a possible reply from Letho was tempting.

He inched back into the room and opened his phone, ready to close it immediately, but it had been Letho who’d responded. 

_ — Do you always read about feudal liege ceremonies in bed?—  _

Eskel choked. He really hadn’t expected anyone to recognize what he was reading in his profile picture or bother looking it up. He certainly hadn’t expected anyone to call him out like that. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Did he make a comment about practicing them as well or did he ask what Letho knew about the topic himself? 

He put his phone down, deciding to shower before he responded. He didn’t want to seem too eager. 

Of course, that didn’t stop his mind from wandering to Letho as he rinsed away the sweat and dirt from his run. He bit his lip as he ran his soapy hands over his body, thinking about the size and strength of Letho’s hands.

Eskel cursed under his breath as he started to get hard. He was definitely going to be late if he tugged one off right now. Turning the water all the way to cold, Eskel gritted his teeth and focused on what he had to do when he got to work. As much as he enjoyed archiving, it certainly did the trick on killing his mood.

Shutting off the water, Eskel stepped out of the shower and toweled himself off. He rushed through getting ready for work and only grabbed his phone as he was running out the door. When he pulled into the employee lot at the library, he typed out the response he’d settled on while driving.

—I find the bed is the best place to brush up on liege ceremonies—

Eskel put his phone back into his pocket and tried not to think about what Letho might say to that. 

* * *

Eskel was in the back of the library going through the newest acquisition when his phone buzzed in his slacks. Despite the small size of the city, it had a rich history, and the local nobility had funded the archive through the library to preserve it. It didn't hurt that Jaskier happened to belong to that family and shamelessly put the big in his mother's ear about preserving Lettenhove's history.

Putting the volume down, Eskel glanced at the clock on the wall and realized that he’d been back here for hours longer than he’d intended.

“Shit,” he mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket to see it was the alarm he set to remind himself his shift was over. As he stepped out of the back room, his phone began to light up with notifications as the wifi picked it up again.

There were a handful of texts from Geralt and Lambert as well as one from Jaskier. It was probably just the group chat, since they all knew he rarely responded during work hours. However, what caught his eye was the message notification from Letho.

_ —Sounds like fun.—  _

There was a second message from significantly later in the day as well.

_ —Look, I’m not big on messaging. I’m usually at the pub on 9th and Kerack most evenings if you’re interested. If not, I’ll leave you to your choice of twinks.— _

Eskel’s pulse raced. Looking at his watch again, he tried to think of how long it would take to get home and shower then find the bar. Did he respond or did he just show up? If he just showed up, would he be able to recognize Letho? He had a pretty unmistakable chest, but a face would certainly be easier in a crowd.

“Why is this so fucking complicated?” Eskel muttered, tapping the screen to respond. 

—Heading home soon. Can get to the bar by eight, I think—

Eskel stared at his phone for nearly a minute, waiting for a response before realizing he was being ridiculous. Letho was probably working as well. 

Putting his phone back in his pocket, Eskel went to the main desk to see if anything needed his attention before he headed out. Istred was there frowning at the computer as was his default around this hour. 

“I don’t understand how books just disappear. Who steals books from a library? They’re already free!” Istred complained, pounding his fist on the counter.

“Things have the worth we put on them. When they’re free, people don’t consider them of worth,” Eskel said, shrugging. He was well aware of the sticky fingers that had been quietly taking books the entire time he'd worked there. It was simply a part of working at the library. That didn't mean he wanted to be the one responsible for determining if a book had been stolen and whether it was worth replacing or if there was a budget to replace it.

“Did you get a psychology degree along with the library science one?” Istred retorted.

Eskel chuckled. “You grow up poor as shit with a bunch of other boys, and you learn the value of things, and you also learn to make clear the value of things.”

“So, I should beat the snot out of everyone who comes in here. Brilliant.”

“Or you could apply for the grant for better security measures that you’ve been putting off for months. Or just hire someone to pretend to be security, make them think you mean business.”

“That's why I hired you, I thought. At this point, I think I’d rather beat the snot out of them myself.”

Eskel laughed, walking over to his own computer to make sure his notes were updated. Once he was sure everything was up-to-date, he signed out.

“You’re leaving on time?” Istred asked, watching Eskel pull on his studded jacket. “That definitely came out wrong. You are welcome to leave at the end of your contractual hours...I just haven’t seen you leave on time since you and Triss broke up.”

Eskel scratched at his cheek. “Yeah, the family may have hosted an intervention about my life choices.”

“Ah, meddling in the love life. I do not envy you that,” Istred said, actually sitting down at his computer to go over the missing report. “For what it’s worth, I hope your evening is better than my own.”

“My date could be catastrophic and probably still be better than the missing report.”

“Touché.”

Eskel grabbed his keys off the desk and patted Istred on the shoulder as he headed out the back hall toward the staff lot. His phone buzzed as he pushed open the door, and Eskel slipped it out of his pocket as he crossed the lot.

_ —Back corner— _

There was a picture attached. Eskel clicked on it and bit his lip. Letho’s face fit the rest of him. He had a shaved head with a v-shaped scar across his forehead and scalp. His face was as broad as the rest of him with deep-set eyes that almost looked bruised in the meager light the photo was taken in. He wasn’t handsome, but his face certainly told a story which only served to intrigue Eskel more.

Eskel breathed a sigh of relief as he unlocked his truck and slid into the driver seat. He tried not to overthink things as he drove home. He didn’t need to know Letho’s whole life story. They’d grab a beer and if things went well, maybe they would fuck.

Eskel dropped his coat over the back of the couch as he walked through his home. He tugged his shirt over his head as he walked down the hall toward the bedroom, dropping it on the floor as he crossed the threshold. By the time he stepped into the bathroom, his belt was unbuckled and his jeans were hanging open. 

Catching himself in the mirror, Eskel paused to look at himself. He worked hard to stay in shape. Geralt and Lambert certainly helped keep him motivated. He wasn’t as lean as he’d been in his twenties, but he still had his strength even if it was hidden behind a wall of padding. 

Eskel’s fingers traced the scars over his chest and torso. He closed his eyes as he remembered the accident, letting Diedre drive despite his misgivings. He remembered being trapped in the vehicle even as she was able to get out and fled the scene. The hours of agony before someone saw his truck in the gully. 

Eskel shook himself. He wasn’t going there. It had been more than a decade, closer to two at this point. Letho had scars too. If he didn’t like Eskel’s then fuck him.

The water wasn’t even warm yet as Eskel stepped beneath the spray. He scrubbed away the musty smell of old books which used to make Triss’ nose itch. He attacked his scalp with too much shampoo, hoping his hair wouldn’t fall lank for once. 

Once he was clean, he stood under the spray and reached down to stroke himself. It had been a while since he’d even given himself some attention. Lambert would probably make some comment about old age catching up with him and making his dick limp...and then he’d probably slip Eskel a few little blue pills to help him out. How he’d get them, no one would never know, but Lambert was just that kind of guy.

Eskel slipped his hand lower, tracing the skin behind his balls and remembering the last time he’d been touched there. Triss had used a strap on him a handful of times, but she hadn't enjoyed topping him as much as he had. After a few times, they hadn't tried it anymore.

Eskel reached further, touching his hole gently. Thoughts of just how big Letho was all over came to mind, and Eskel dropped his hand. He stepped out of the shower, soaking wet and dripping all over the floor. He went to the medicine cabinet and pulled bottles out until he found the small bottle of lube from ages ago.

Holding it tightly, Eskel marched himself back into the shower and propped his leg up on the bench seat. He popped the top of the bottle and drizzled some of the liquid onto his fingers, being careful to keep it out of the spray of the shower.

He used one hand to hold his cock out of the way as he brought his slick fingers to his hole. He pressed them there, circling at first. 

Biting his lip, Eskel let his mind wander to a firm chest and strong arms. He imagined those thick fingers touching him, opening him up slowly. He gritted his teeth at the mild burn as he pressed his index finger into himself. He pulled it back slowly before pushing it in further.

His cock went soft in his hand as he buried his finger to the last knuckle, but when he crooked it, it still stole his breath. Concentrating, he rubbed his prostate with purpose until he started to grow hard again. He only added a second finger once he was firm in his hand. Again he started to flag, but he hardened up again as he used both fingers to tease his prostate. 

Eskel cupped his balls as he began to fuck himself with his fingers, stretching himself as he went. He thought about Letho enveloping him from behind as he opened him up, gripping Eskel’s hip tightly to keep him still.

He was working a third finger into himself when he heard Lambert’s distinct shout.

“Hurry up in there. Brought beer and wings.”

“Fuck,” Eskel cursed, banging his forehead against the tile wall. He watched himself go soft as he slipped his fingers free. Lambert was definitely a buzzkill. 

Rinsing his hands, Eskel contemplated how he was going to get rid of Lambert without being a complete asshole about it, not that that was a requirement. Sighing, he turned off the water and grabbed his towel. He wrapped it around his hips as he walked over to the sink. He ran his fingers over his jaw. He should probably shave, but he really didn’t want to waste the time. It didn’t look terrible, and Letho had been sporting a five o’clock shadow in the picture, so he doubted the man would be offended by it. This wasn't exactly putting his best foot forward, but it was the best he had right now.

Lambert was standing outside the bathroom when Eskel opened the door. He had a half-eaten chicken wing between his teeth and a beer in hand.

“What the hell took you so long?” Lambert asked around the wing.

Eskel gave him an unimpressed look. “Do you eat like this in front of Aiden, or do you just come to my house when you want to eat like a wild animal?” 

“Aiden doesn’t mind.”

“Did he tell you that or did you take his stunned silence for acceptance?” Eskel asked, walking over to his dresser and searching for a pair of jeans that fit him reasonably well. Most of his jeans had holes torn in them from little projects around the house, or they were old and tight from several pounds ago.

“Fuck off. What do you know about it?”

“I know that your t-shirt is covered in hot sauce, and Aiden’s cat is going to try to lick it off of you as soon as you show up at his flat tonight,” Eskel said, dropping his towel and tugging on a pair of boxers before stepping into his only nice pair of jeans. They were black and only slightly too tight in the hips and thighs.

“You going somewhere?” Lambert asked, ignoring Eskel’s comment. 

“The bar.”

“In your best jeans?” Lambert looked skeptical, and it was hard not to feel insulted.

Eskel gave him a deadpan look. “Since when are black jeans something to write home about?”

“Since I haven’t seen you in anything but work clothes and sweatpants in six months. I asked Geralt last week if you’d thrown out all of your real clothes after Triss left.”

Eskel rolled his eyes. “I wear regular clothes when I’m not just hanging out on your or Geralt’s couch.”

“Yeah, and when was the last time you—you’ve got a date! Jaskier’s plan worked!” Lambert crowed, using the remains of his chicken wing to point at Eskel. 

“I’m just going to the bar—”

“To meet someone. Where’s his picture? Come on, hand it over.”

“I—”

“Don’t try to deny it. Your hand is twitching because you’re dying to scratch your face. Trust me, I know all your tells. Now...let’s see who inspired you to squeeze into your nicest pants,” Lambert demanded, placing his beer on Eskel’s nightstand and holding his hand out for Eskel’s phone. At least, he was offering his clean hand rather than the one covered in buffalo sauce.

So much for keeping this between him and Geralt. Eskel sighed as he pointed back toward the bathroom. “It’s in my pocket.”

Lambert eyed him suspiciously. “This isn’t like when I was nine, and you and Geralt told me there was a puppy in the closet only to lock me inside of it, so you two could play video games without having to share with me?”

Eskel snorted as he laughed. He and Geralt had been assholes, but being six years older than Lambert that was to be expected at least some of the time. He supposed he deserved any amount of revenge that Lambert wanted to inflict on him in their adulthood. "It's there if you want to look…but please wash your damn hands before you ruin my work pants."

"Yes, mother."

"Fuck you."

Eskel continued getting dressed as Lambert went in search of his phone. He was buttoning up one of his favorite flannel shirts with a red check pattern when Lambert scoffed.

“You've had this thing for less than twenty-four hours. How do you have this many dick pics.... _ That _ can’t be real.”

Eskel shook his head, knowing the exact chest Lambert had just looked at. Lambert was a bit of a gym rat, so it made Eskel feel a little proud that even he was impressed.

“You can’t wear those jeans,” Lambert called from the bathroom.

“Why not?”

“Have you looked at this picture? He’s going to tear those things off you like...like a grizzly tears bark off a tree."

"That isn't a thing."

"First of all, it is. Read a book, Mr. Librarian. Second, wear the ones with holes, so you still have something to wear on a second date if this goes well.”

Eskel rolled his eyes. “He’s not going to tear my pants off me.”

“Not with that attitude...Eskel, you have somehow found the beefiest of beefcakes on Grindr, and you aren’t preparing yourself to be fucked into the next century. How long have you been out of the game?”

Eskel sighed. Maybe he should've done this a little sooner. “Should I really change my pants, or are you just being a dick?”

Lambert stepped out of the bathroom and gave him a sympathetic look. “Remember when I was sixteen and in love with Kiera?”

“If getting my skull rearranged couldn’t make me forget that train wreck then nothing will.”

“ _ Anyway _ , you bought me the biggest box of condoms available because you told me that pulling out wasn't a valid form of birth control for a sixteen year old. And then like a month later Kiera's friend got knocked up by some meathead?”

“What of it?”

“You’ve never steered me wrong, so let me return the favor. Wear the torn jeans and the old one of that exact shirt. When this guy throws you against the wall, enjoy it without worrying about having to replace the only jeans that fit you properly.”

Eskel blushed because he did have three of this exact shirt. He liked it, and it was comfortable, and maybe he bought clothes in bulk. Who was going to judge him other than his siblings?

“Come on, take those off,” Lambert waved at him and walked over to Eskel’s drawers. In under a minute, he was handing Eskel a pair of his most worn black jeans. There were holes in each of the knees and one uncomfortably close to his ass that came as a result of squatting to inspect a flat tire. 

“I’m not auditioning for a porno,” Eskel said, holding the jeans up.

“Just trust me.”

Eskel sighed again and changed into the jeans Lambert suggested before going into his closet and finding the cozy, older version of the shirt he was wearing. The elbows were worn thin from how often he wore it. Once he’d changed, he held his arms out for Lambert’s perusal.

“Turn.”

Eskel turned in a slow circle.

“Go with those knee high shit-kickin’ boots you used to wear to shows all the time.”

“When did you become a one man Queer Eye for Kaer Morhen?” Eskel asked, stepping back into the closet to locate his ancient boots. He tugged them on and left them untied as he stepped back out.

“It was easy to learn what works when I had two perfect examples of what didn’t work in you and Geralt.”

“Asshole.”

“You’ll thank me when you can’t walk right tomorrow,” Lambert said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Geralt hadn't been kidding about the insufferable part.


End file.
